He fir’d and shot him through the back:
Then to the rest himself addrest,
“This is your lot, I do protest,
“Who e’er amongst you wrongs a man,
“Pay what you get, I tell you plain;
“For yet we know not friend or foe,
“Or how all things may chance to go.”
And then to arms they order’d were,
On thoughts of Gard’ner’s coming there:
But finding that he did decline,